


Tell Me Something Good

by orphan_account



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Abuse of Pop Culture References, Biting, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Praise Kink, Stripping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:34:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29392032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Darcy demands a compliment from her mercurial Norse god, but Loki just can't give a straight answer, choosing to quote bad pop culture references instead. It doesn't stop them from having a little bit of fun though.
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Loki
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29
Collections: Thor and Loki's Kink Exchange 2021





	Tell Me Something Good

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gracethedisasterace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracethedisasterace/gifts).



“A million poets could try for a million years, and describe but three-eighths of your beauty.”

“That’s horrible,” Darcy snorted, “and you stole it from The Simpsons.” 

“Who stole it from me,” Loki responded, nipping at the tender spot behind Darcy’s ear before licking and soothing it. She wriggled enticingly, leaning into it, and he thought he’d finally silenced her before she giggled again. 

The two of them were splayed out on the lumpy bed, Darcy in nothing but her undergarments in contrast to Loki, who remained fully clothed. Though neither of them would have been able to pinpoint how it happened, the two of them had begun a weekly habit (then every few days. Then most of the week. Then maybe every day?) of him slipping into her quarters at night. They had never seriously discussed it, and she preferred it that way, content to enjoy their encounters without dwelling on the reasons for too long.

“More,” she demanded, thrusting upward, earning a nervous chuckle from him. Her cheeks were blossoming with a fetching shade of pink, her eyes bright with excitement. 

He considered, brow furrowed in apparent concentration as though his thoughts weren’t eighty-percent occupied with how hard his dick was. “I wish I knew how to quit you.” 

Darcy smirked, leaning her head back far enough to meet his gaze. “Um...a good try. But don’t ever attempt that accent again.”

“A good try,” he repeated, not sure what to make of the implication. 

“More,” she demanded again, running a hand up and down his forearm. “And take this off, how is it that you still have all your freaking clothes on?’’

He made a show of blinking. “You are full of demands. And I don’t recall forcing you to remove anything. What am I getting out of this?”

“Um, take a look,” she smiled, hips wiggling. “Off with it.” Loki sat up, hands fixed to the hem of his tunic, and pulled it upward with excruciating slowness. He chuckled as her face betrayed her, impatience written into her eyes despite her clear assumptions that she was in charge of this situation. Once he was bare, she raked her gaze over him with no subtlety to speak of. “Hey. More.”

He settled back down closer to her, resting on his elbows. “You had me at hello.” 

“Lame,” she spat. “And Tom Cruise is the last person I want to think of right now. Fucking...Xenu-worshipping, couch-jumping, lift-wearing Mission-Impossible mofo and his weird thing with divorcing his wives once they’re like, 35? Like, could you be any more of a Hollywood stereotype?”

“I have no idea what any of that means,” Loki replied. “And no one has ever dared to call me lame before.”

“If that was supposed to scare me, it didn’t,” Darcy shot back, sticking out her tongue. He smiled, eyes darkening. Eyes locked on his, she casually slid a hand over her chest, letting it linger over her left breast before rubbing at the fabric of her bra. Her fingers circled the nipple, coaxing it to attention, and Loki’s gaze shifted to it. After a few more moments, she slipped her hand into the cup, grasping the fullness within before finally extracting herself. Loki’s lips were on her before she could say anything else.

She sighed, curling upward, chasing the feel of his tongue and yelping when he suddenly bit down. “Motherfucker!”

“That, I have heard,” he chuckled, licking a circle around her nipple one last time before looking back at her.

She huffed, cramming herself back into her bra as the air quickly made the wet trails he’d left turn cold. “Okay, seriously. Take this seriously. Give me a serious compliment, seriously.” She slapped the bedspread on either side of her. 

“Very well.” He took his time in answering, his smile dangerous as his fingers worked the front clasp of her bra. Darcy couldn’t keep from sighing as he finally undid the foul garment, overworn from being her only bra for the past 3 years, the band stretched from daily use and weight gain. Any self-consciousness evaporated as the god gently kissed the delicate skin between her breasts, kneading her hip gently, and she thrust against one solid thigh. His breath hitched and he thrust back, clearly furiously hard, and she grasped at his buttocks to keep him close.

“Compliment,” she reminded him, breathless. “God, please.”

He shuddered at the sound of her desperation, and she moaned as his breath ghosted against the shell of her left ear. She raked hands down his back, sweet little gasps increasing in frequency, and slithered her fingertips past the waistband of his pants. He gasped back as she took him in hand, teasing the silky-soft head of his cock before stroking the length. Wits still clinging to him, he nuzzled into her neck, savoring his words before speaking. “I’m your huckleberry.”

“Noooooo-ho-ho!” she cried, pushing him off in frustration. “Goddammit!”

He laughed as he put up a show of resisting her rain of blows, flipping onto his back and taking the abuse. Darcy wrestled with him and eventually pinned his wrists above his head. She straddled him and he watched her naked chest heave with indignation. “Was it something I said?” 

“You!” she yelled, punctuating it with a slap to his chest. “You are a hundred-million-bajillion years old. You’ve probably watched thousands of poets live and die. Fucking Shakespeare and Naruda and, and-- Ovid, and shit. Tell me something good.” 

“I am scarcely over 1000 years old, mortal,” he shot back, “and I thought you liked it when I quoted from your Midgardian entertainment.”

“Time and place, dude!” She smacked his chest again. “I’m serious, Loki.”

He snatched her wrist before she could hit him again. “So you said, but you’ve never minded my jesting before.”

She threw up her free hand, huffing and suddenly looking anywhere but at him. “I know, I just --”

He waited for her to speak, holding onto his patience as he throbbed beneath her, but she turned her face away, barely disguising a soft sniff. The sudden silence was unsettling. “Darcy?”

She swallowed audibly, still not looking at him. He sat up, sliding toward the headboard until his back met with it. He let go of her wrist and she let the arm fall to her side. Loki brought a hand to her hip and stroked in small circles. “Darcy.”

“You know what, I don’t - nevermind,” she finally said, voice wavering.

He continued stroking her hip. “Darcy, I must apologize. Despite your insistence, I did not think you took anything about - this seriously in the least.” 

It was quickly evident that this wasn’t the right thing to say, and he sighed, trying not to let the sight of her watering eyes disarm him. Mortals. They wasted so much time when they had so little. 

Taking her face gently into his hands, Loki forced her gaze onto his. “I will say this, Darcy. I have never before bedded a woman whose tongue is as talented as it is sharp. You are the first woman whose wit I consider equal to mine.’’

‘’That was an awfully slick way to pat yourself on the back,’’ Darcy replied. 

‘’You know me too well already,’’ he shot back. He noted that she hadn’t pulled her face from his grasp. ‘’I speak true, Darcy. No mortal has ever thrilled me so. Not even the fabled Marie Antoinette.”

“There is no way that story is true,” Darcy laughed, her face cracking back into a smile.   
“You can’t prove it isn’t,” Loki replied, coaxing her back down until they could share a kiss. The mood had shifted, and Darcy melted into him, grinding down against his hardness until he had to gasp for breath. 

“Off,” she breathed out, fiddling with his waistband again, and he obliged, shedding the garment and positioning himself before she sank down onto him, both of them moaning. Their lips met again as she bore down on him, the breath punched out of him as he thrust back up into her tight warmth.

When her thighs began to shake, he sat up, grasping her buttocks to pull her closer to him and plunging his tongue into her mouth. As the pitch of her gasps grew higher, he tightened his grip on her flank with one hand and moved to stroke her clit with the other. Her thrusts faltered as she came undone, and he followed soon after, groaning at the feel of her warm walls fluttering against him. 

Spent, she fell fully flat against him, and he turned the both of them onto their sides so that they were facing each other. Darcy nuzzled into him and he smiled at the feel of her warm breath puffing against his skin. He let her rest, weighing what he wanted to say. 

When she moved again, he gazed down at her, smirking. “I think I want some of what you’re having.”

She laughed, short and sudden. “That’s not the line, but I’ll let it slide.”

He laughed in return, pulling her close, and the two of them fell into an exhausted sleep.


End file.
